SUMMARY: Chapter Twelve Lex is forgiven, but the two friends are tipping dangerously between understanding and anger.
WARNINGS: Rated Teen for language and sexuality. Veers into the realm of AU after the episode "Red" from Season 2. Because I just – LOVE red kryptonite!
DISCLAIMER: So many people own Superman and Smallville that I don't even know where to begin. We'll just sweepingly say Siegel and Shuster, DC Comics, and the show's creators. It's this twisted copyright situation, anyway. But I'm not making any money of them, rest assured. Just – playing with them. In my mind. It's not my fault they picked Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum, eh!
AUTHOR NOTE: My version of red kryptonite varies from the show's use. In comic canon, red kryptonite causes a different reaction each time Superman/Clark is exposed to it, and the results typically last 24 to 48 hours.
Slant
Chapter Twelve
Lex was staring at Clark's smile and trying to say something, only he couldn't. He'd broken completely now; his mouth wasn't working, his throat was dry, his voice box shattered. It all seemed so easy all of a sudden. Just like that, forgiven for throwing vile curses at a boy who was practically a god. As if Judas Iscariot had just been given a get-out-of-hell-free card by Jesus Christ himself.
That was not a particularly savory metaphor, and Lex hoped to whatever god was up there that it wasn't an accurate one, either. Besides, Judas had never lusted after Jesus.
They'd never written it into the King James version, anyway.
"So is this what Lex Luthor freaking out is? I'd expected something a little more, uh, glamorous." Clark's smile, Lex's smile, it was all melting into the same thing. For a moment he was convinced he'd lost his mind, that this was all just a dream brought on by too much alcohol imbibed over (what else?) Clark Kent.
"You… that is, we're…"
"Friends?" Clark held out his hand. And surely, Lex thought, surely he knew the significance of it. For other people it was simply a handshake, a ritual that was followed mindlessly because it was polite. But to shake hands with a Luthor when one was a Kent, that meant something. That meant trust, hard earned trust. Like taking a vow of one's honest-to-God humanity.
Ironic, that.
"Our history with handshakes isn't the best, Clark," Lex said soberly. Clark withdrew his hand as if stung, but didn't argue. Lex knew then that he understood, and despite the sadness he was causing Clark, it was still for the best that they not put any more illusions of everything's alright into this relationship, for whatever it was worth. Hadn't they tried that, only minutes before, just to see the illusion crumble before it could become complete?
"What if I rescind the promise?" Lex looked sharply at Clark. Forget the whole thing, was that the plan? Lex had had enough of forgetting things when they weren't convenient or were too close to his heart for him to want to think about them. "I mean, change it around a little?"
"How so?"
"Everyone's allowed secrets, Lex. I'm not asking you to tell me all of them, now or in the future. We all have secrets to keep. I just don't want us to lie, at least about who I am. Not anymore." Lex found himself biting his lip, considering, and wondered absentmindedly if he was doing that because Clark's body was used to such an action.
"And what about who I am?"
Clark smiled again, and Lex found that he was fast becoming used to his face doing that easy, open grin. Frightening thought, really.
"You're Lex Luthor. Billionaire, resident of Smallville, owner of world's scariest dad, and my best friend. Who knows the biggest secret I've ever kept, and didn't run away screaming."
"No, I did something worse." Because he had, hadn't he? Somehow, screaming and running away seemed to preserve more dignity than ranting like a madman about the creature sitting beside him who was really just Clark, just his best friend Clark, just his attractive best friend Clark. Hell, just his alien, attractive best friend Clark. Just his…
Lex's mind was severely caught in a rut here.
"Did I ever say I blamed you for that?" Clark had begun to walk away, and his voice trailed over one shoulder, inviting Lex to follow. He did, wondering where Clark intended to take the two of them. It was obvious that he'd run blindly to this room. Lex wasn't sure if he had ever been to this room of the house. But as he had sat there on his sofa minutes before, wondering how to find Clark and apologize, his vision had gone strangely black and blue. He saw a person's skeleton through the walls, far in the east wing. He could see secret passages and tunnels and beyond, outside, surrounding him.
The phenomenon had bowled him over for a few moments. Seeing through walls. That explained… a lot, actually. It felt overwhelming, but Lex was quick at focusing – when, of course, it didn't directly involve one Clark Kent – and grasped that the skeleton was Clark's. Well. His, actually. Amazing, how fragile one looked when you took away the skin and the flesh and blood and musculature. Amazing, how one looked just like everyone else. Because Clark certainly had. His body, at least, didn't seem to have any distinguishable differences, inside or out, from a normal human.
Not that Lex was a normal human. But he tried not to think about that. Just because the meteorites had touched him didn't make him that different. Just on the outside, where everyone could judge him. But he'd learned from that, hadn't he? He'd become stronger.
That's what his father would say. Lex had wondered if maybe someone like Clark, or Clark's parents, would say something different.
He followed Clark quietly, considering. His thoughts quickly moved away from that dangerous territory (emotion being considered very dangerous to a Luthor), and back to the idea of Clark's alien abilities. Obviously, he could see through walls. Move very fast. Was probably very strong. Maybe… unable to be hurt?
"I hit you with my car that day we met." It wasn't a question. If Lex was honest with himself (a concept often thought but rarely explored), he knew it had never been a question. He may have been flying over a bridge at sixty miles per hour, but he wasn't drunk or dazed. He'd seen the beautiful angel-thing in front of him before he'd hit the ice-cold water. He'd hit Clark Kent, and Clark Kent had saved his life.
"I told you. I'm glad you were driving like crazy."
"You can't possibly mean that."
Clark stopped suddenly, and Lex fumbled, still not completely used to Clark's longer legs. Thankfully, he managed to regain his balance before tumbling right into his now-smaller friend. As if the day could get any worse.
"I know you don't mean everything you say, Lex. That doesn't mean that I'm the same way."
Yes, apparently it could.
"Clark –"
Clark turned so abruptly that Lex almost fell again, his face tight. Lex found himself fascinated by the tiny lines radiating from his (Clark's?) mouth and eyes, making him appear older. The blue eyes were intense and full of emotion Lex knew (or hoped to God) that he hid. When, of course, he was inhabiting his own body. In Clark's, it was rather difficult to do.
"Just stop, okay? Just stop. I know you can be a cynical bastard sometimes, but please, just let me tell the truth without you questioning it for once. Is that possible?"
Lex opened his mouth, and shut it without saying anything. God knows that his quick, often vicious replies were obviously not going to intimidate Clark. He had to approach this as a friend would, though God knows he hardly qualified as capable of friendship, as his previous actions had all-too-clearly demonstrated. He found that his eyes moving everywhere they possibly could to get away from the piercing glare directed at him. He'd long known of his capacity to make others nervous with just a glance, but to have it directed at himself! As if a mirror image had come to life, and it was intent on murdering him.
An intensely frightening thought. Best to think of something else.
Quickly.
"A cynical bastard?" Lex found himself asking, and cringed inwardly (and perhaps a bit outwardly as well, though he hoped not).
His eyes (not his, they were Clark's now, dammit, remember that) blinked, and his face turned into a typical expression of Clark-like confusion. Then an unexpected laugh seemed to bubble up out of nowhere.
"A cynical bastard. About right. Crazy driver, too. Can we agree on that?" The intensity was slowly turning friendly in Clark's eyes. Good, because that blue was going to drive him insane. That was his blue!
Calm the fuck down, Lex.
He forced himself to shrug. "It's the truth, right?" Then, out of nowhere, a light grin.
Camaraderie. This could work.
Clark took a quick step toward Lex, who immediately backed up into the wall. Maybe camaraderie wasn't working so well. Was Clark's body always this jumpy? Maybe it was an innate reaction to someone who looked exactly like – well, yourself – coming right at you. Clark was still smiling, even laughed a bit.
"Most of the time. Relax, Lex."
"Are you capable of relaxing?" An eyebrow quirk from Clark. "I mean, do you, ah, sleep?"
"Of course I sleep. And I eat. I do all the stuff humans do."
Lex considered this. "But… really fast."
"Very fast. But not all the time." Clark looked around the hallway the two of them were currently occupying. "Is there somewhere we can sit?"
Lex forced himself to think, to look at the walls and doorways and tell himself where exactly he was. Still in the east wing, but no longer in the far unexplored corners. Second floor, wasn't there a sitting room? He squinted, and immediately everything around him took on that blue-black tone. Yes, the sitting room. Well, one of the sitting rooms.
He blinked, and his vision cleared. He turned to tell Clark, but stopped when he saw the bemused look on his face. "What?"
"It came really easily to you. The x-ray vision, I mean. Do I always look like there's something in my eye when I use it?"
Lex thought about this. "Yeah." He grinned. "You would do this weird thing, that squint, and I always thought you were about to get a migraine or something. What did you mean about it coming easily to me?"
Oh, no. Why did he have to say coming in a sentence? It wasn't in the right context, he wasn't supposed to be doing this, thinking about this, he wasn't a horny sixteen-year-old!
Actually, the kicker is, he was a horny sixteen-year-old. At least in body, if not in mind. Yet.
Focus, Lex.
"I mean I pretty much had to practice to get the upper hand" (why did he have to put it that way?) "on all of my abilities. To, uh, reign them in. That's what my dad says." Lex nodded, again refraining from saying anything that might make him sound too eager to hear more. Of course, he did want to hear more. What abilities? How to restrain all of them? Was something strange going to happen at any point (stranger than the ordinary strange, of course), and how did he deal with it? He walked past Clark and led him to the third door down on the left side of the hallway, revealing an ornately arranged sitting room with two sumptuous love seats and a low, polished oak table between them. He settled down on one and was amused to see Clark manage to take up the entire other one, even in Lex's body. Like a cat, really. A big, good-looking cat with long legs and musculature like an Olympic athlete.
Focus, Lex.
He looked at the table to see if there was anything of interest to take his mind off of Clark for an instant of time.
There was one thing on it.
A Bible. King James version.
Lex sighed. This was going to be a really long day.